


Near Miss

by The_Norsiest



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Arm Touching, Fluff, Longing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentions of Michael Burnham - Freeform, Original Alien Species - Freeform, Rescue, Romance, Vulcan superior hearing, Vulcans, love at first words, meditation technique, mentions of Amanda Grayson - Freeform, mentions of Pike - Freeform, mentions of Sarek - Freeform, rescuing spock from danger, sibling sweetness, unresolved father issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Norsiest/pseuds/The_Norsiest
Summary: While on assignment at Starbase 12 Spock must use a meditation technique to tune out the loud noise bombarding his ears. He decides to focus on one voice in the crowd in order to drown out the rest. Not realizing it will some day be a voice very dear to his heart.Excerpt: "Spock closed his eyes and focused. Some voices were shrill, others lively. Some people were sobbing, overtaken by their very emotions; they wouldn't do. Some were deep and bellowed, while some were higher pitched. And some… or one, was soft."
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 20
Kudos: 125





	Near Miss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marlinspirkhall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlinspirkhall/gifts).



> I wanted to try and mix things up by writing Disco Spock. Hope you enjoy!  
> Unedited (expect punctuation errors).

Number one was humming again. It was to be expected. Last night she’d gotten Spock to come and watch a rendition of “My Fair Lady” on the holoprojector and now “Loverly” was stuck in her head. Spock had collected adequate enough data on her penchant for humming to calculate an 84% likelihood that she would repeat the same series of notes another fourteen times before becoming aware of what she was doing. At which point she would apologize, refocus her efforts on the task at hand but then, inevitably, lapse back into tune. He didn’t mind. Her voice was pleasing enough to his Vulcan ear. 

Spock marked the number on the PADD in his hand and moved on towards another box of supplies. Pleased with the assignment he’d been given, to take inventory on Starbase 12, the two officers paced themselves steadily. Captain Pike, knowing his science officer and commander well, had designated them here for work while he’d taken the rest of the crew for some well needed shoreleave. The station, not too very far from the planet Risa. 

Neither Number One nor Spock would have enjoyed it. 

“I’m doing it again aren’t I?” Una asked (though absolutely no one called her Una).

Spock didn’t stop his count as he spoke. “It is not a deterrent.” he replied honestly. “And” he looked up from his task to face her “You do not need to worry about my judgement in this regard.” he assured her. 

She smiled and just the barest rise came to the corners of his mouth.

Number One tapped the screen of her own PADD trying to push the music from her mind. She scrolled, looking for the necessary information, turned back to look over the box and read the PADD again. She sighed “Looks like we’re missing some regulation phasers.” Concerning, given that they’d already seen a lack of other materials. Specially ones used for outfitting the corridors with force fields in the event of emergencies. 

“I’m going to have a word with the station commander. You go down to deck 7 and see if we missed any boxes on our first walk through.” It was a negligence neither party was capable of but Spock simply nodded and obeyed the orders. 

As far as space stations went #12 was hardly a hub of activity. Yet, so close to the Romulan border it was imperative to keep it well stocked and well maned. Ships often brought relief in the way of officer exchanges and it just so happened that two vessels were docked now doing just that; The USS Constance and the USS Farrgut. 

Spock had hoped to avoid the cluster of service men and women in the halls near the ports. Unfortunately due to maintenance, the starboard turbolift was down and required him to cross the expanse of bodies just as the exchange of personnel took place. The door flew open and Spock’s ears were instantly assaulted. 

He took a deep breath. 

As a child Spock had been vaguely aware that his mother’s hearing was not so acute as his own. A fact made even more obvious after his sister Michael was adopted into their family. Once, while arguing (as siblings will do) she’d crossed her arms and mumbled a come back under her breath. He’d heard it of course and responded. After such all manner of annoyance appeared to evaporate from the older sibling, curiosity taking hold. The two set out to test the extent of his ability by playing a game of “can you hear me?” Michael would find some remote corner of the house and whispering a sentence that her brother would later repeat back. Once older, and Amanda no longer tucking Michael in with a story, the preteen would read aloud to herself before sleep. Knowing that her little brother could hear her words through the walls she did voices for the characters and exaggerated when necessary. As a teen, alone with their mother, they often communicated in hushed tones and facial expressions from across the room. On rare occasions getting into trouble when Sarek arrived home early and could also hear the secret messages. 

Through various misunderstandings in regards to their ‘play’ Sarek was led to teaching his son a technique of meditation. One he still utilized. Though Spock tried not to think of his father (or his wisdom in this one thing) when he applied it. When the noise was simply too much to bear he had to find an anchor. He had to decide on one sound, one voice amid the many and use it to tune out the rest. 

Spock closed his eyes and focused. Some voices were shrill, others lively. Some people were sobbing, overtaken by their very emotions; they wouldn't do. Some were deep and bellowed, while some were higher pitched. And some… or one, was soft. There, nearly across the room was something the Vulcan could latch on to and use to push aside the other chatter. He moved towards it. 

The other vocals began to fade around him as he dodged and avoided the touch of bodies. Honing in on the officer so far off. “We’ll be sure to write” he said, sweet and simple. “And tell you about all the fun you’re missing.” There was a playful cadence applied to this. He seemed… nice. An Andorian backed up and Spock had to side step to avoid his foot being crushed. He lost the voice, for just a moment, before it came back to him. “Don’t get into too much trouble” and he laughed; hearty and pure. There was something soothing about it, lighthearted. Spock hadn’t realized a voice could sound so appealing. 

He was at the halfway mark. A group of three were busy wrapping themselves in a hug and a young couple entranced in their kiss didn’t notice the Vulcan who practically pressed against the wall to get by. Another group had started some sort of cheer, half screaming a song they’d learned at the academy. It gave them a unique bond, an inside joke; or was he confusing the concept? Either way, it was boisterous and Spock had to increase his efforts of concentration. 

The voice had subsided in order to let someone else speak. But his breathing, his heartbeat was still vigorous; from this proximity he could discern it readily. It was a good heartbeat, Spock thought, even keel and rhythmic. Healthy perhaps and obviously human by the pattern it played over and over. Bum bum, bum bum. This man, whoever he was, was becoming familiar. Without meaning to, he'd offered a safe harbor from the ruckus; his existence aiding Spock in a very personal way. 

The intercom came through on all channels at once, linking to the com badges of every officer. They all went silent to hear the message, the computer voice blaring through. Spock picked up his pace, knowing by the way the energy in the hall shifted that people would be moving soon and he’d have to fight harder to avoid their bumps and jostles. He was almost to the other side, almost to the section he needed, the door in sight. He let go of the voice, the body he’d trained to so he could follow the announcement. “-dock B to USS Farrgut. All remaining members on station will need to board via transporter if not boarded in the next ten minutes. That is all.” 

There was a little chime and just as expected people began to move. 

The sliding doors couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away when the Calyadian crewman took a thunderous step. Twice the size of the average Klingon with a thick exoskeleton and rigged spikes along its arms their species was far more nimble than they had any right to be. In a panic not to miss their ship the creature shrieked, calling attention to itself like a warning. A series of ensigns, wide eyed with terror collectively lost their sense of spatial awareness to flee the oncoming charge. It was, in fact, a charge that the creature mounted. For Spock there were too many individuals; One side of them created a wall, blocking his avenue. One person rushed back careening against Spock just as another nearly toppled him as they shoved against his side in a frenzy. The Vulcan reeled. He found his footing after the imbalance and managed not to fall to the ground. But he had managed to place himself directly in the path of the alien. There was no escape. Spock resided himself to absorbing the impact of the oncoming strike. 

A quick calculation would prove that there was only a 12.7 percent chance of Spock not being trampled. If a freak occurrence such as systems failure were to take the artificial gravity offline for instance he might be saved. Or if Romulans suddenly attacked. Or perhaps, in the event the creature had a physical defect undetected by Starfleet doctors and were to simply drop dead before collision (while it wasn’t nice to consider) then, and only then might Spock avoid the infirmity. What he didn’t count on, didn’t calculate for, however, was that ANY of surrounding crewmen would come to his aid. 

The path between the Calyadian and the port had parted like the red sea with only the Vulcan standing in its way. The lieutenant sprang from nowhere adding himself to the short list of obstacles; feet firmly planted he belted “HEY” which echoed throughout the room. The alien screeched as it slid to a halt before the human a third of its size. There was a momentary pause where those close enough to witness held their breath. 

“Now I’ve had just enough out of you mister!” the man scolded, waggling a finger in the Calyadian’s face. With the remark the voice rang with the same inflection Spock had been following only moments ago. “Board your ship like a civilized being or I’m reporting you for a reprimand” he added, placing hands on his hips. 

There were some nondescript clicks issued from the crewman before the universal translator kicked in. “On last” more clicks “reprimand… no report… please lieutenant.” From his vantage point Spock could see how the young man relaxed his shoulders; his scapulas, well defined beneath his shirt moving down. He couldn’t help but look over the body, muscular beneath the uniform. The back of his head brimming with dark blond hair, perfectly managed and short. 

With nothing left to see of the outburst the rest of the officers resumed their march to the ports. The Calyadian circling around Kirk and pacing itself from the other members, trying to make itself small in caution to their fellow crewmen. Spock stood still as the traffic filed around him, parting from where the human, only a few feet away, kept his position. 

It was only another second before he turned. Broad shoulders and a charming smile greeted Spock’s vision. Hazel eyes that danced with just a hint of amusement caught his own and held their gaze for a second far longer than would have been customary for any race. (except maybe the people of Zel Gamma Four). Spock felt his breath catch for reasons he didn’t fully understand as the man took two steps closer while looking him up and down. 

He felt… he felt… He tried not to feel it. 

“You alright?” The man asked, the voice he’d been following through the crowd now spoke directly to him. He retrained his ear, the same thump of a heart beat he’d been monitoring sounded within his chest; bum bum, bum bum. The beat matched his own which had risen in tempo, the other’s slowly falling to a more natural rate post avoided disaster. 

Spock cupped hands behind his back in a stiff ‘at ease’ gesture. “I am unharmed.” he managed to get out. 

Perhaps his shuddering breath caused the man to believe him frightened. He reached out and put a reassuring hand against his arm. It was firm in hold without being invasive. Spock didn’t know if that was because he desired it (without acknowledging he desired it) or if the tender touch of this man was so well practiced that even a Vulcan couldn’t argue against its presence. “Try to be more careful,” he offered. 

Spock wanted to argue that he had been, that he would have been fine if the illogical rampage hadn’t taken place. He wanted to speak and force the man to stay here, to converse with him in words or gentle gestures. For some reason his own speech wasn’t working and the hand fell away from his body. The lieutenant’s young and perfectly beguiling face moved past his vision. Spock stood there and watched as the other passed through the port. 

Just one more lock of the eyes would have been sufficient. 

The rest of the day would be a fog of activity. After confirming that the missing supplies had been stolen Spock and Number One would investigate. They’d discover and thwart a plan of some rebels to take over the station. Phaser blasts would abound and Una would prove her valor ten times over; rescuing the commander of the station right before Pike returned to their aid. They’d spend several hours in sickbay where, when alone she’d sing “I could’ve danced all night”. But even with the near escape down a jefferies tube and breaking of his arm, Spock would think back to that man. The one, who despite his mental pleading, hadn’t turned around… 

It would be some years before Spock would see those eyes again, lustrous and gleaming, set in the face of one James T. Kirk.

**Author's Note:**

> During this quarantine I've been writing a lot of Spirk! So much so that I started filing it all as a series. If you like this work feel free to take a peak. Most is TOS but I had a lot of fun writing Disco Spock, so who knows, maybe more is in order!


End file.
